My introduction to veganism was kind of traumatic. I was working for Whole Foods doing catering. The PETA people lobbied Congress twice a year with lunch that included the grossest of super-processed foods: not-dogs and tofurkeys. YUCK. But whatever, I was there to take the order and organize the pickup/delivery. Every interaction with these people included at least one tirade against consuming animal protein and diatribes about how evil human beings are. They were against eating honey because bees are enslaved to make it for us. Keeping pets was wrong because that was in some way cruel to the animals. They went on and on. They were zealots. It was so unpleasant dealing with them.

It didn't take long to figure out their agenda was really about denying themselves basic nutrition and the basic comfort of living with animals because they loathed humanity. They were all about self-punishment. God. Those people were nuts.

Fast forward a couple of years to a client who had switched to a vegan diet and felt really great as a result. She was early into it and very enthused. She decided her 14 year old daughter would also benefit. Things went downhill for the 14 year old quickly. Her grades plummeted, she couldn't think, she was tired all the time. When she stopped menstruating, the client took her daughter to a very kind doctor who suggested that she introduce eggs into the girl's diet. My client started eating eggs too. What a difference! They were both so much happier and energetic after that. More grounded. I wonder what they eat these days? That was a long time ago.

So, veganism and I did not get off on a good foot. I know not all vegans are self-loathing and fanatical. There are gentle people who eat their plants, and they're fine. They live and let live. The diet seems to work well for them. It's the supercilious, self-righteous vegans I am simultaneously worried about and annoyed by. I think the chronic whining might stem from the fact that they're hungry. People all around the world will eat bugs, worms, innards -- we'll eat anything to get some animals protein. We are built for it.

I was thinking yesterday that the Paleo people don't whine or deliver tirades. They talk about how good they feel, how strong and clear they are. They smile when they talk about what they eat. I think this is because they are well fed. It's a story we tell in the Reyaverse, anyway.

I've studied nutrition and tried many diets over the decades of my adult life. The "health food" of the 70s was the worst! OMG. Every kind of nut butter, 50-grain bread, honey, brown rice and sprouts on everything. I couldn't digest any of it. But it was supposed to be good for you.

Remember the 80s when we were supposed to eat tons of pasta and trans-fat? Carob everything. Oops. Mistakes were made.

Life is all about eating and being eaten. No wonder we think about it so much. I'm struck by how frequently hunger comes up in the fairy tales. Here is the take away from those stories: If someone offers you food and the food looks really delicious and you're really hungry: DO NOT EAT IT. You'll be sorry!! However, if some gnarly old lady comes up to you in the woods, and all you have left to eat is a stale crust of bread, YOU MUST OFFER IT. You will not regret it.

In American society in the 21st century, many of us have the luxury of choosing what we will and won't eat. We are so lucky! Though I cringe at veganism, I shouldn't single it out. The truth is, all diets are diets of privilege.

It's my privilege to eat real food that gives me energy, satisfies my hunger and tastes/smells delicious. I like a variety of foods, not too much of anything. I like to chew so I prefer food with texture and substance. This is why I'm not a fan of smoothies or juicing.

There are foods that are supposed to be good for me that make me queasy, tired and do not satisfy. I don't eat them. When I eat, I pay attention to how I feel while eating and afterwords. I listen to my body. The body never lies.

Homo sapiens have always made art. It's one of the first things we started doing once we were able to balance on our hind legs, freeing up our hands for projects galore: hunting, farming, building -- and making art. Even way back then we were complicated beings, trying to find meaning. Making art was never frivolous! We require art!

Actually, so did the Neanderthals. They were doing cave paintings in Spain long before our species arrived in Europe. Many things have been written about the value of creating and looking at art. It is so important.

I've recently come through a major bout of spiritual healing. It has been a profound time of revelations, intense work in dreams, and most valuable to me: letting go of long held resentments I didn't even realize were still there. It's like that in the human psyche. There's so much stuff inside us, we don't even know the half of it! Coming into a place where it's possible to shed some of it is glorious, and I do mean that in the truest sense of the word.

As a part of my process, I created a therapeutic painting/drawing hybrid. While I worked on the canvas over the last few weeks, I listened to music and let my mind wander. I learn so much in this way.

Now that it's finished, I'll put it away, pull it out now and again and remember this time of healing. I'm sure I will continue to learn from it, and will be glad I took the time to make it. This kind of work is not meant to be gazed at all the time. It will never hang on my wall and I doubt I'll even post a picture of it. It's crudely rendered, not to mention very personal. It's like a tarot card that tells the myth of this healing. I don't need to see that all the time.

We go to the caves in Europe and look back through time at the ancient paintings. They tell a story. As I worked, the thought came to me that I'm telling my story the same way humans have done for two hundred thousand years, at least. This canvas and the materials on it will degrade fairly quickly, returning my story to the earth long before it would qualify as an ancient painting,

What are healthy boundaries? You tell me, since the truth is, there are no boundaries, healthy or otherwise.

This came to me while reading about the Solar System. We used to think the edge of the Solar System was somewhere just beyond Pluto, a planet shaped object in the Kuiper Belt. But then we figured out there's an Oort Cloud, and way beyond that, the magnetosphere of Brother Sun. What I was reading was an article about Voyager, which they believe still has not reached interstellar space. This is hotly contested in the astronomical world. Some think Voyager has left the solar system, others disagree. There might be a layer beyond the magnetosphere. Whether or not there's another layer, what's clear is that there isn't a well defined edge of the Solar System.

My thoughts returned from interstellar space to remember it's electromagnetism that keeps us from merging one into the other, that keeps us from plunging to the center of the earth. Electromagnetism creates the illusion of separation and solidity where none exists. Our minds do the rest.

We think of the skin as a boundary, but it's porous. You can put on a patch to deliver certain medicines through the skin. We sweat. There really is no hard boundary between us and the rest of the biosphere of the earth and the sun. We are the earth. We are nature. We are Brother Sun.

Because there are no boundaries, our minds create them. We are storytellers who like beginnings and endings, the boundaries of time. The edges of my body and the layers of my energy field are real to me. I consciously focus on the perimeter of my body and energy field as part of my daily practice. I believe acknowledging my edges is orienting and keeps me more centered. This, even though I created those edges in my mind.

We love the idea of boundaries so much, defining our bodies is not enough. We draw circles around chunks of the landscape. We call the chunks cities, states, territories, countries, empires. It is so absurd. We are one world now, we must find another way. We don't live ON the earth, IN a particular country or city. We ARE the earth, inextricable, with no boundaries except in our minds.

We aren't the only animal that creates boundaries. Territorial behavior exists in many species. There are no boundaries but we create them. We need them, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. So interesting to think about.

The term "healthy boundaries" usually refers to relationships and territorial concerns, how much give and take is appropriate, helpful and mutually beneficial. What's healthy fluctuates and evolves. No wonder it's so hard to identify them!

The mind is powerful. It is not all-powerful, probably a good thing. We need definition, even if it's a construct. Oh man. Being a human is so complicated!

Regret is inevitable. If we were the kind of animal that can truly live in the present, this would not be such a thing, or we wouldn't spend as much time with it, surely. But we are restless storytellers, ambitious, too. We make plans for the future and we think about the past. The best possible outcome from our tendency to remember is that we can learn from our experiences. Sometimes. In the Reyaverse at least, regret is one way to learn. What could have been done differently? If I'd made a different decision, what might have happened? Good questions!

Human beings take a wrong turn and end up in unfortunate places, like an unhealthy relationship, a soul-sucking job. There are always many opportunities in a human life to make mistakes. When we break free of these situations, there tends to be a lot of regret, as if we could have known better. Or should have known better. (Should: a judgment and a fantasy.)

I hear people talk about how the time spent in these situations was a waste. They wish it had never happened. Can you blame them? I don't. I've entertained those thoughts many a time.

Lately I've been thinking about how, in myths and fairytales, in books and movies, it is so important to break free of the dark thing. Quitting the soul-sucking job, leaving the horrible relationship, is a turning point. It's so important! It's a key aspect of human experience.

In order to break free from the dark thing, we must first become mired in the dark thing. We must take the wrong turns, make the wrong decisions, because otherwise there would not be an opportunity to break free. Paradoxical, isn't it? if we never got stuck, we would never have the chance to become unstuck and what a shame that would be. Also true is that we have to try not to get stuck in the first place. Oh my. There really is no clean, simple way to walk through life, is there?

We try so hard and judge ourselves harshly. Being a human is so complicated!

I don't love trying to photograph them. I think they are very private beings and don't really want people shoving their phones and camera lenses into their faces, trying to catch a glimpse of their insides. This is the total opposite of tulips, daffodils and roses, who can't wait to fall all the way open. Some flowers love showing off. Not irises.

I try not to be rude, but I do still have to stand and stare at them, dumfounded with awe. I have to try to get good pictures of them. I take the pictures respectfully, always asking permission first.

Here's a true story centered around a purple iris. It was given to me at my first initiation into Reclaiming. It was traditional to give the initiate herbs and flowers at the end of the initiation ritual. As the herbs were presented, the giver named their power. Here is a rose, for love. Here is rosemary, for clear vision and wisdom, here is a peony for abundance.

When I was given the iris, the giver said, "Here is the iris, for hope." There was a pause. Then she said, "Except -- it's dead." Ha ha! It did look shriveled beyond repair. We all laughed.

The day after the ceremony, I spread my herbs and flowers on newsprint and put them in the sun to dry. My plan was to make an herb filled pillow.

After they had been drying for a couple of days, I went to check on them. The iris had bloomed! It was an initiation miracle and a powerful message. Hope can bloom in spite of everything, it can. You can't force hope, or at least I can't: lord knows I've tried. But when I'm hopeful, I feel restored by it, healed by it. I am a fan of hope.

It's a miracle, the joining up of an infinite soul with a very finite body. The Buddhists call life in this form a precious existence. I guess! I find it challenging. I find it bewildering. I know I'm not the only one.

I always thought one must strive to be fully ensouled while alive. This I believed even though soul retrieval is an ancient ritual that exists all around the world, and has been practiced throughout history. The fact that humans have been chasing after lost souls since forever must mean that soul loss is "normal." ("Normal." What is that, anyway?)

I've been on the receiving end of soul retrievals a number of times. When it was a shaman conducting the ceremony, I didn't feel much. It didn't seem like any part of my lost self was returned, though it was always an interesting experience.

The only times I've been able to sense a returning soul bit was in the aftermath of spontaneous soul retrieval. It happened once above Multnomah Falls in the Columbia River Gorge of Oregon. In 2014, I experienced a spontaneous soul retrieval at the Eiffel Tower! I swear to God.

Not that long ago, I said to my very wise acupuncturist, "It's really hard being fully ensouled!" I expected him to be sympathetic, to applaud my efforts to be whole-souled. He said, "Thank god we don't have to." WAIT. We don't have to? Oh yeah! The soul is vast, infinite some think. Of course no one knows what the soul is, though many have tried to figure it out. I wonder about it even knowing I'll never truly grasp its essence.

The animal of my body is tender and its tenure is brief. Of course I can't be fully ensouled. Still, I have to try! I wonder what that's about.

The oak leaves are unfurling and the green dust is flying in Washington DC. Any moment now I will begin to sneeze. It becomes a hazmat type situation in the Reyaverse when the oaks and grass pollinate.

I don't think the rutting oaks and grass like me any better than my body likes them; it's best if we can avoid each other during their orgy season.

As I walked beneath the oaks this morning, I kept saying, "I come in peace!" A guy sitting on a bench gave me the strangest look as I passed by. Ha ha. Sometimes I do appear to be kind of crazy.

I partake of natural remedies, Chinese medicine, homeopathic treatment and good old fashioned modern medicine. I can amuse myself for hours deciding what combo of remedies to take.

When I come in from a walk, I wash my hands, wipe my hair with a damp washcloth, change clothes, do a sinus rinse with saline, irrigate my eyes with gentle eyedrops. Some days I have to stay indoors with the windows closed or go straight to the National Gallery and stay safe within its hermetically sealed biosphere for the better part of the day. Avoiding the pollen is a sign of balance, says my acupuncturist. It also keeps me from going into anaphylaxis!

It used to make me so angry to be this allergic to spring, however, I've come to the realization that it's no one's fault, and more importantly, it only lasts a few weeks AND it's my only serious health issue. It could be so much worse.

Later in the season I will be grateful for the deep, cool shade. I will prevail.

Have you ever heard anyone say, "I learned that important lesson the easy way"? Me neither. In order to learn, mistakes must be made. For the most important of life's lessons, the mistakes can be hurtful, messy, harmful, ugly and embarrassing.

There are some graceful beings who accumulate wisdom without being too destructive. I'm in awe of these people. For most of us, myself included, wisdom is hard-won. Every shred of wisdom I can claim came out of a process in which I pitted myself against myself, and lost. It's slightly amusing to think back on some of the misguided battles I've engaged in.

It's one of my favorite Dr. Who quotes, that when someone says, "How did you get to be so wise?" the doctor says, "Just like everyone else, I had a really bad day." Oh yeah.

All that advice about not sweating the small stuff, living each day fully, being kind whenever possible, etc. -- such great ideals and important to work towards, but to expect perfect behavior is not realistic or compassionate. Is it?

I think it's important to sweat the small stuff sometimes, I really do. I think it's fine to check out sometimes and take everything for granted. Yes, of course try to be kind whenever possible, and yes of course it's always possible (says the Dalai Lama) but if you find yourself being unkind (usually happens underneath conscious intention) please remember, you're a human being: complicated, wound up, monkey-minded, conflicted. Shit happens. It does.

Developing character requires bad behavior tempered by a willingness to return to good behavior. It's the process of remembering how you'd like to walk through the world, then taking steps in that direction. The return to mindfulness is the foundation of every kind of learning, or so says the Voice in the Shower.

Go ahead. Sweat the small stuff. Just don't ALWAYS sweat the small stuff. Yes? I say yes.

On Capitol Hill, we all know each other. Clients are also neighbors, friends. We run into each other at Eastern Market, at neighborhood gatherings. In my practice, I see spouses, parents, the grown kids, cousins, aunts, grandparents. This is not unusual here. It really is a village.

I love working with families. It means a larger identity can be addressed, the family soul. Using those words makes it sound too esoteric. It isn't. It's clan identity I can address when I see different actors in a sacred family drama.

I often see several members of a family after a loss, or when someone is very ill. In a family crisis, everyone participates, even the family members who are 1,000 miles away. We share DNA, we share our life histories. When something big happens, everyone in the family feels it.

Sometimes storms pass through families. More than one person gets sick, someone dies or feels suicidal, gets fired, divorced. There's a feeling of foreboding in the family soul at times like that, like it feels right before a dangerous thunderstorm.

How can I support the spirit of the clan as well as the individuals as the storm moves through? How can I help stabilize and encourage the family members who are healthy and can act as anchors? How do I address the pain of the ones who are facing the storm head-on? Is it even possible to hope for balance? Maybe the chaos is inevitable.

I have no idea whether or even if I can support family souls during times of crisis, but I have to try. Right?

It's a glorious feeling when the storm passes. A baby is born into the family, or someone gets married, graduates successfully or something else full of promise takes place. It's always such a relief.

The American family soul is currently experiencing a shitstorm of crisis. I'm definitely not taking that on, though. One clan at a time, please. Thank you.

Growing old is so freaking weird. And humbling, especially because it's not a secret that it's challenging. It's shocking to everyone. You hear it and hear it and hear it -- aging is not for sissies, thank you Bette Davis! -- but somehow it does not sink in until it happens to you. Time passes, you don't die. One day you wake up, look in the mirror and think, "Holy shit! I'm OLD! But ... but ... I don't feel old inside." It's like a slap across the face. Funny and humbling, I tell you.

That disconnect is one of life's final challenges. Coming to terms with the quandary of the eternal soul living in partnership with an all too finite body that is tender, soulful, powerful, resilient, fragile, sentient, unpredictable -- well -- that is not a task for sissies. Believe me.

The body, too, has its issues with aging. I think the noble mammals of our bodies kind of like being ensouled. It must be hard for the body, too, to grow old. No wonder the aches and pains and other issues that are part of healthy aging. It's not just the machinery wearing out. I think our bodies wish it could go on a little longer, too.

I've been thinking about the idea of aging gracefully a lot lately. As a younger woman I had romanticized ideas about it, for real. I thought aging gracefully meant a gracious and hospitable attitude towards the truth: life is short! I thought it was possible to welcome aging. Ha ha ha ha! That is hilarious to me now.

Here on Capitol Hill I'm part of a group of friends of almost exactly the same age. We met when I moved here in 2001 when we were in our late 40s. I've watched all of us age over the years. I think we are aging gracefully. What that looks like to me these days is: Sure -- of course we freak out every now and then. We don't try to hide the moments of WTF. We soon enough get a grip on the emotion and carry on, plus we all have a sense of humor about it. Graceful! Yes?

The picture points to what my 85 year old self always says when I ask for advice. In my mind's eye she says, "Oh dear! Why not put on a brew? A nice cup of tea will be just the thing." I used to roll my eyes at that advice, but it works! I switch off the devices or put them in the other room, brew a delicious cup of tea, then sit on my sofa and gaze out the window as I drink it. It makes me stop. It makes me pause. And it comforts.

We boomers are beginning our journey away from embodiment, making space for the next generations. It's so freaking weird.

I like what they say about health in Chinese medicine. They say health is the ability to respond appropriately to ever-changing conditions. In Chinese medicine, health is about balance and resiliency. It's a more forgiving definition than the idea that health means everything is functioning at 100%, that there are no aches or pains, queasiness, or congestion.

For some, health is directly connected to body bio-chemistry. Get the numbers right and you're healthy. But it doesn't always work. Sometimes people who have perfect blood numbers still feel awful. Whatever health is, it is complicated.

There are plenty of people who believe health is our natural state. I wonder about that. If that were true, why do people get sick so often? Surely illness must be natural, too. Right? If health was our natural state, I'm pretty sure there would not be so many different kinds of medicine. Some would say that in a romantically imagined past, we were all very healthy. If that's true, why are the healing arts ancient? All over the world, my guess is that medicine was the real first profession.

In the Reyaverse it is believed that health is random, or another way to say it is: it's mostly about luck or factors that even the most brilliant medical minds of all time have only glimpsed. Health is so unfair. There are people who do everything "right" - everything - and yet they get sick and suffer terribly. There are others who do everything "wrong" and yet appear to be as healthy as horses. That's what I'm talking about when I use the word random.

But we have to try to be healthy. We have to try! It's a commitment: so worth it. Whether you are drawn to modern medicine, Chinese medicine, natural, herbal, Ayurvedic, pill-based, blood-numbers based, dietary, energetic or whatever, the best medicine is partially a matter of faith. The medicine you seek must match your values, whatever they are.

There's also the matter of practitioners. Medicine is much more effective when there is a rapport between the healer and the healee. That rapport can take many forms. When there is no rapport, it can be frustrating for both patient and doctor, making the work less effective.

Health fluctuates with the seasons, our ever-changing moods and outlooks, and according to other rhythms we can only guess about. What I'm saying is, health is elusive! The secrets of health are genuinely secret! Thank god for every kind of medicine!

I don't know what health is or exactly how best to come by it, but I try for it every day. May you be well! May I be well! May it be so!